Walmart…

The store that at one time we affectionately named, the “blessed store of goodness,” has in recent years become, less than blessed.

The fluorescent lighting, blaring music, and cluster shoppers tend to send this POTS warrior into a tailspin of sensory overload.

One sunshine-filled morning, however, we were optimistic in planning our attack.  

“Okay,” I thought… it’s not too busy, we can do this.”

Ten minutes passed and our experience began to plummet.

From abundantly populated aisles, to toppled merchandise, and the ever present cart roulette…

My resolve was fading quickly.

Taking a detour through the birthday card section, I searched for the perfect one to present to our loved ones. At the same time, an employee was stacking shelves and muttering under her breath.

Finally, it was clear enough to decipher what she was saying, “just pick one and move on.”

I mumbled, “I’m sorry,” and shuffled away.

Now blissfully alone in a new aisle, I continued my hunt.

I could hear the employee talking again and then heard my husband’s voice. She was apologetic and assured him that her comments were not directed at me. 

She was, however, sharing her annoyance over the woman, one row away.

To be honest, I was laser focused and hadn’t even registered the commotion, until it was brought to our attention.

Once keyed in, the young family was all anyone could hear.

We selected our cards and continued on with our mission only to come across the lady in question.

Her cart was piled with birthday supplies and three young children. She used her other hand to tug on the sleeve of an additional youngster at her side. 

After our fourth encounter in various aisles, I attempted a smile at the young child who kept lagging behind.

We finished our shopping with a few other mishaps and made a beeline to the exit.

On the ride home, I exhaled a sigh of relief that we had survived the ordeal.

After discussing the experience, I felt a tremendous wave of guilt rush over, as the Holy Spirit pricked my heart.

I noticed the woman, and even felt a tad frustrated by the harsh tone she used when redirecting the little ones.

But did I really see them?

In those brief moments, did I recognize the exasperation in her voice or the curiosity on the little faces? 

Why did I not view her through the lens of Jesus’ love?

Perhaps her mood would have shifted if I had extended compassion, instead of indifference…

When did I become so jaded by this place that the mere thought of offering a helping hand seemed foreign?

She was clearly overwhelmed by her reality and she received only disapproval and apathy from onlookers.

Including me.

The Holy Spirit impressed one phrase in my heart as I reflected on the experience. 

Missed opportunity!

Being the hands and feet of Jesus does not have an off switch. Because, in every waking moment, we will encounter individuals for whom He bled and died. 

The ones, for whom, our Lord went to the cross to provide a way out.

I recognize that if I’d submitted to the Holy Spirit's leading and offered assistance, it may have ended poorly.

But that is not the point.

Obedience to the spirit is a necessity when striving to look like Christ. 

What good comes from saying I believe, yet refusing to act on those convictions.

Lifting up a prayer of repentance and one of provision for this family… 

I asked the Lord to soften my heart,

to grant me eyes of compassion, 

and a mind willing to heed God’s voice in every situation.

“Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.” Colossians 3:12

Maybe like me, you have allowed a critical spirit to outweigh a compassion-filled existence.

I invite you to join me, in striving for kindness over comfort as we seek to lead a life that reflects Jesus.